


Winter

by Impetus



Series: Reader Insert Fics [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/Impetus
Summary: He met you in a field.





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old reader Insert fic that I reread recently and didn't immediately reject, so I figured that I may as well share.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading.

She sat idly, gliding her fingers over the surface of the pond. There was no wind and nothing else to disturb the water. For all intents and purposes, she wasn’t really supposed to be lingering there. No one was. Standing, she took a deep breath before experimentally dipping a toe in the water. A tingling sensation shot up her leg and she withdrew before smiling and flinging herself into the air. The portal didn’t make a sound as it swallowed her up.

At first she felt like she was falling, her hair whipping around her, but soon it felt like she was floating. She calmly settled into her descent as her flowing skirt and soft hair flew with the wind. Small houses littered the ground leading up to a castle jutting into the sky. The sloping roofs of the large structure coming closer as she leveled off, her bare feet stretched as she landed softly on the nearest rooftop. It was dark. Her eyes smoothly scanned the area for any signs of life before she leapt off the building and landed softly in the grass. The sound just barely loud enough to disturb the wildlife lingering in the area. Though she supposed it wouldn’t matter, they’d be hibernating before long. 

As she walked, a cool breeze followed and kissed the eaves with frost. She wandered through the streets, pleased by the silence and the emptiness the other gods never spoke about. It was relaxing here, though home was idyllic, it was somewhat smothering to be around the others sometimes.

“It’s too crowded. Too loud, tainted, and horrible. A vicious burden.” The words of heavenly ministers and lofty young gods swept over her like the frigid winds she brought. Despite what they said, she and the other gods responsible for looking over earth never felt that way. Her sisters often fought over who could spend more time on earth. None of them argued when it was her turn. 

She was the youngest and she had to admit they tended to dote on her. When her third eldest sister had returned from earth she felt different. The autumn bringer seemed happy and glowed like the evening sun. She had smiled quietly and the golden leaves woven into her hair seemed to sparkle. The winter youth couldn’t help but think that something had changed.

“Yuki it’s your turn.” Her eldest sister said as Aki settled back into her bed, closing her eyes to rest. Haruki’s hair fluttered in a warm wind Yuki couldn’t feel, the pink flowers and green leaves still budding, waiting to bloom. Natsuki had waved her off, and so she was here now. She paused in a field, standing with her arms flung outward and her eyes turned up toward the sky. 

“It’s my turn,” Yuki whispered, her lashes gathering the frozen petals that fell onto her cheeks. Her sisters liked to comfort her, telling her that the snowflakes were her own kind of flower. She’d cried and caused one too many blizzards when a rude war god told her that the frost in her hair wasn’t as beautiful as the gentle buds of the first sister, the wild colours of the second, or the golden leaves of the third. 

“It’s cold,” a low voice muttered, monotone despite the criticism. She whipped around, her quiet moment shattered when she noticed the presence of a very serious looking boy. He didn’t seem to notice her as he set up a target across the meadow, returning back to his original spot.

Part of Yuki felt miffed that she’d been interrupted, the other part of her offended by his apparent objection to the weather she’d brought. But she remained silent, eventually deciding to watch him as he stood silently, bow in hand and arrow notched. His form was steady, as tense and taut as the string he held. Suddenly, he released, the arrow he dislodged glinting in the low sunlight as it flashed through the air. Before she knew it, the tip embedded itself in the center of the hay circle, wooden shaft quaking. The flakes around him scattered, blown away by a wind she had not created. He was quiet before he moved again, breathing in and out steadily before re equipping himself.

She didn’t know what he was doing, but she did know what he was. He was a warrior, his body language and his practiced form screamed of diligence. It was beautiful, in a way she likened to her own power. It was graceful and awe inspiring to see, but lethal and dangerous. No one ever wanted to get too close. So she didn’t. 

“Aren’t you freezing?” The sudden intrusion on her thoughts startled her, his low and impassive tone grabbing her attention in more ways than one. His voice reminded her of the authoritative higher gods that cast a fond eye over the earth every once in a while before sighing and returning to their important duty. But this felt different, his tone missed the patronising duality of speech she’d come to expect.

“No, I’m fine,” she replied, uncertain of the man whose gaze held her own without fear or derision. Despite the clouds she’d summoned for the snow to fall, her smile was sunny and sweet. He didn’t say anything in response, but nodded instead. He turned away before pausing. After what seemed like a lifetime he unclipped the cloak he wore and shook the snow off of it before laying it over her shoulders. Before she could even say thank you, he had returned to his exercises. So she decided to wait. The layer was warm, and though she didn’t feel the cold, it was welcome.

 

***

“Who are you?” The question slid off his back like the snowflakes melting on his fingertips. He rarely saw women, and the women he did see didn’t speak much. Such was the life of someone raised behind high walls and expectations. He stared at her for a moment, lashes catching the steady snowfall. 

“I do believe it is considered rude to ask someone’s name without naming yourself first.” He didn’t mean to be haughty, but his blunt delivery and unwavering gaze seemed to unnerve her. She look away from his eyes, scanning the skies thoughtfully before she opened her mouth again.  
“My name is Yuki,” she said uncertainly. Though his expression didn’t change, he realised that he didn’t know any families in the area with a daughter named Yuki.

“Really?” His voice was measured. Maybe she was a guest.

“Yes.”

“What is your family name?” he asked, running through the clans under this domain. He could have just forgotten. He’d become tired of their clan heads presenting their daughters to him, maybe she’d come up and he just didn’t notice. She fidgeted, obviously at a loss of what to say. He almost felt bad for her. 

“I don’t have one.” She replied simply, tugging at the sleeves of her beautiful kimono. The cloth was too high quality for her to be a rogue of any kind. The pattern and work was too fine for even some of the highest in society. He raised his brow, unable to detect any fallacy in her tone or body language. Her voice was refreshing, cool almost. He couldn’t figure out why. 

“My name is Keiji.” His response caught her off guard, she obviously didn’t expect him to answer her question. 

“Keiji? What is your family name?” she questioned of him this time, eyes sparkling. 

“I don’t have one.”

 

***

After their brief conversation, the silence had been too stifling and Keiji had returned to practicing his archery. For the first time, Yuki felt a little uneasy. She’d been to earth countless times before. Even in this area. But never had a human approached her, much less speak to her. Finally she decided that it was time to move on, to see how the winter was settling in.

“Are you leaving?” Keiji called after her. His voice sounded uncomfortable being used in such a way, as if it was never raised. 

“Yes,” she called back. He stared for a moment before turning away from her, raising his bow again. 

“Good bye.” 

***

“So what did she look like?” 

“Bokuto-san, this isn’t relevant to our preparation.” Keiji deadpanned, ignoring his rambunctious comrade.

“Who cares about the preparation. We’re gonna go in, full frontal attack. You and your troops will shower their first line with arrows and then I’ll come charging in with the cavalry,” the spiky haired general shrugged. “It’ll be easy.” 

“I don’t believe battle is ever that simple, Bokuto-san.” 

“Whatever, just tell me about her. I’ve heard rumours about her. She only shows up during the winter, and she’s said to be exquisitely beautiful. Hey, maybe she’ll bring us luck in the oncoming battle. Fighting in the cold is tough, we need all the help we can get.” The larger man sat back, leaning on one hand, resting his other on his bent knee. His casual posture contrasting directly to the rigid back and drawn lips of his fellow daimyo. 

“Actually, the story is that there are four, one for each season.” Keiji corrected, pointedly looking away from Bokuto’s interested gaze. 

“Who cares? No one’s ever talked to one before.” 

“No one can truly claim to have seen her either. Who says she is even a goddess?” The raven haired archer finally looked his companion in the eye. 

“I do. Everyone does.” 

“Prove that she is a goddess.” Keiji declared, voice challenging. 

“Prove that she isn’t, A-kaa-shi-san.” Bokuto snapped back, teasing his friend. 

“How do you prove someone isn’t something?” Akaashi asked, clicking his tongue at the ridiculous request. 

“Figure it out.” Bokuto shrugged, picking at a loose thread at the hem of his well made pants. While many didn’t understand why Bokuto and Akaashi were so close, out of all the daimyo in the area, Akaashi was actually very grateful for Bokuto’s friendship. 

Bokuto was a relatively new leader, having had to fight for his right to rule his family’s domain. Akaashi had lived differently. He always knew who he was going to be. Everyone else knew too, from the way they praised him it was hard to miss. The way people treated them was different.

Bokuto they treated with respect. They treated Akaashi with awe. As if he were a delicate piece of art, to be admired but never touched.

 

***

“He speaks as if I’ll see her again so soon.” Keiji muttered frigidly, standing in his usual practice field the morning after his and Bokuto’s productive discussion. 

“Who will you see again?” The whisper came from nowhere, as if it was just a breeze going through his hair instead of a question. For the first time in his memory, he was shocked. Shocked enough to turn so quickly that he slipped in the snow and landed soundly on his back. 

He heard the sound of hurried footsteps and a whoosh of cloth as his blinked away his blurry vision. Suddenly he felt his head being lifted, eyes curiously staring into his own. 

“Are you okay?” She asked desperately. Looking over him frantically, almost ignoring him in pursuit of checking his well-being. The snow around them seemed to fall harder, swirling threateningly. 

“I’m fine.” He maintained his composure, though his bruised bum reflected his ego. Though he was more pragmatic than he was prideful, as a leader and society elite, he couldn’t fully escape the perception of those around him. He had to admit, this was the first time he’d felt so embarrassed. 

“Thank goodness,” she sighed, hands finally settling on either side of his head. It was then that he realised he was resting on her lap, her hair cascading around them both. A strand had made its way onto his cheek, its texture silkier than he’d expected. She looked away and it moved with her, falling into the snow. He felt a sudden tingling in his nose and before he could stop it, he sneezed. The sound obviously startled her and she tensed in shock before coming back to her senses. “You must be freezing,” she muttered. He watched as she unclipped something from around her shoulders, laying it over him. 

“My cloak.” A light scent he couldn’t name lingered in the fabric. 

“Yes, that’s actually why I’m here. I came to return it.” She ducked her head sheepishly, trying to avoid his eyes. It occurred to him that having his head in her lap was just her mimicking treatment done to her and she had never been on the giving end before. He wondered who it was that treated her so gently, she was well manicured but not inhibited like the women his age that he’d met before. Questions raced through his mind. Was she really a goddess? If so were all the gods this young? Were they all this comfortable around humans? 

“Thank you.” Was all he could muster. He wasn’t known for his curiosity, he wasn’t known for being terribly emotional either, but he had no prior experience with handling a possible deity. He had to admit, though silently, that he was flustered.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” she said as she pat his head, fingers running through his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but don’t worry it’ll be alright.” Her movements were awkward, but he felt a warmth she didn’t seem to bodily give off. It was in his chest and it was spreading. He surreptitiously grazed his hand against hers. No warmth, her skin was cool. So where was this coming from? As he struggled internally she continued. “I’m sorry if this is odd. Whenever I feel down, my sister does this for me. It always makes me feel a little better.” Despite his lack of response, she didn’t pull away from him. 

They remained there for a moment, the beautiful fabric around them contrasting against the pure white snow. He expected to feel the cold seeping into his clothes and clinging to his skin, but instead he felt nothing. 

“Who are you?” He asked her this time. She looked down at him, confused by the seemingly silly request. He could feel the snow on his cheeks, the untouchable beauty she emitted. The corners of her lips pulled up as though they were his bow and he was preparing to release an arrow.

“Yuki.”

Her name struck him in the chest, and for the first time, Akaashi knew what it felt to see something with awe. Something delicate and beautiful. Art that was never meant to be touched.

 

***

They met in the field every day. She would talk to him, asking him questions about the world and about himself. She was so sweet. So kind. So genuine.

Pure. Like the snow. 

***

As winter came to a close he was almost too scared to go out to the field. What would she say? What would he say? He’d read about romantic meetings in poetry and books. There was some sort of protocol wasn’t there? They were supposed to fall in love instantly, and while for him that was true, he didn’t know where she stood. Why did it always seem simpler in stories? 

Most people didn’t think that the heir of Akaashi was so invested in the tales he was told as a child, but most people also didn’t know that those were the only vestiges left of a happy youth. He didn’t remember much other than lessons. Etiquette, scholarly pursuits, poetry reading, combat, archery, and dance just to name a few. Sometimes his tutor would slip him something less practical to read. Though he was well versed in the gods and their interactions with humankind, and artistic enjoyments were encouraged, he couldn’t help but keep these things to himself. Whenever his tutor gave him a new book, Akaashi noticed a small semblance of pity in the man’s posture. Once he had asked his tutor why giving him these books made him feel so sad.

“Because you will not be able to have a story like this.” Had been the answer. 

At the time Akaashi had accepted this. His tutor was right. He would marry for political advantage. He was sure that he would eventually come to love the woman he was paired with, but these stories spoke of passion and new worlds. Of wild and blazing emotions that could not be extinguished. The words “I love you” a commitment of a lifetime. He was almost certain those feelings were burning in him now. 

She made him feel shy. People mistook him for shy all the time. Being quiet next to his best friend and with his vassals, it was a common misconception. However he had no problems stating what need to be expressed. But here, with her, he felt tongue tied. 

She made him clumsy. He was very composed. Years of training and lessons having taught him how to stand, how to sit, how to speak. But he felt out of control, as if he were floating rather than grounded in the material body that bled and breathed. 

She made him afraid. He had been into battle unfazed. He had faced the blade of enemy swords and never bowed away from the possibility of death. But he was scared to lose her, to know a world without her. She was leaving him. Spring was coming and he wasn’t sure she would end up in the same place again. He’d asked her once. She didn’t know either. 

She made him hope. He was never one to care for himself. The outcome or the whole outweighing his admittedly small existence. But he was convinced now. She was a goddess, and she spent her days with him. She made him feel like he was worth something. He had paid respects to spirits and gods before. But he would bow to her. 

***

He finally made it to the field. She was waiting for him, her eyes a little wet. At first he thought it was just melted snow when he realised that she was crying. In the blink of an eye, she was in his arms. He just held her, feeling the rich materials of heavenly garb and her hair on his skin. A small kiss, barely there.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. Her eyes meeting his own. 

“Akaashi Keiji.” He said in reply. “Who are you?”

She looked away. He watched as her eyes swept from the melting snow to the still grey skies fillled with cold wind. Finally she looked back at him and smiled. 

"I am Yuki.”

“I love you, Yuki.”

He prayed that the stories he’d read were true. Because these were the words he hoped would keep her with him.


End file.
